


ambiguity to lucidity

by STUTLER



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, mentioned dave/rose, mentioned john/karkat, mentioned john/vriska, minor dave/terezi, minor jade/dave
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-05
Updated: 2013-09-04
Packaged: 2017-12-25 15:54:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/954977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/STUTLER/pseuds/STUTLER
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>recollections of childhood stories from a sad teenager who's still learning to grow up.</p><p>john's pov, second person.</p>
            </blockquote>





	ambiguity to lucidity

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first fic and since i don't own any proper writing programs, i'm just gonna write it as i go along. critiques are welcome.
> 
> i'm gonna seperate each chapter by age. this first one is when john is 5 and meets rose, the next one dave will be introduced and he'll be 8 or something.  
> my personal goal is 1k words per chapter, but i can't really tell how many words i have so i'm crossing my fingers and hoping it's enough.

Rose has always been beautiful.

Even as a snotty toddler in the kindergarten class you shared she had an elegance above the rest, which shown through the wardrobe choice her mother would lay out for her to put on in the mornings. It was a sense of style that most parents and children fail to grasp so they send their children out with ordinary garments whereas Ms. Lalonde picked out stylish clothing for Rose, even at a young age where fashion doesn't matter. Always dressed for the best. The day you asked Rose Lalonde to be your friend, she was in a pair of blue overalls with obvious colored patches purposes manufactured on the clothing and whether or not it be biased of you to say since she wa your first friend, but she was gorgeous and has always been.  
You love her, you really do. She had always taken the initiative to care for you in that motherly way young children like to think the poses, and she loves you too in the utmost platonic way that you've already established that you do for her; and that's why you swear your life didn't begin until you asked Rose Lalonde to be your friend.

When your chubby child-like fingers had tugged on her short blonde locks to get her attention, she didn't yell at you or shove you. Instead, she smiled. It was a small, knowing smile that you were often graced with. You both shared the silent knowledge that you never intended to harm her, even when you noticed her flinching she was still too polite to ask you to stop until you learned to on your own accord. Rose was patient with you. She was patient.  
As some of the kids in your class would gush over your interactions, with friends of the opposite sex being uncommon in young grades, Rose still had the patience to quietly pan out and explain to them Ew he's just my friend! Gross! and the way she said it dripped with such suave and elegance.

Her suave and elegance stayed up with her through the years, even up to this very day. It carries through her sweet, lavender voice voice, and even when she tones it with the deep angry violets, it's still gorgeous.

Rose has always been beautiful.

 

* * *

 

At the age of five, you'd like to think you were more self-aware than your peers. More aware of the world around you and your own current identity and what lies ahead of you in the terminology of fate and destiny. You'd like to think you are.  
Even if you didn't acknowledge it back then.

Bright leaves of gold, orange, and vermillion would crunch beneath your feet as the breeze swiped them away.  You would oftentimes find your sister Jane, who had three years on you, sit beside the stump of a tree and stare at the depth of the sky, holding the mangled and gangly limbs growing from the broken stump and gazing at the nothingness of the deep abyss that made up the sky. The lingering sensation that October brought to you was enough to keep you excited as a child, as well as the promise of pumpkin pie that hung high in the air.

Being the apparent self-aware child you were, it was really an unconventional day for you. Nothing of significance happened but it's still a day you wonder about as to whether or not there was a purpose or that it happened.  
A small ball had rolled onto your street and you, being the rebellious five-year-old you had been, wandered out to safely retrieve the ball from the lazy road it had been on. The ball had a spiraling pattern of the colors red, blue, yellow and white. Being the naive child you were, had unprofessionally dubbed it "The Rainbow Ball".   
You never really questioned where the ball came from until it went away when you were eight. The rainbow ball had left you the same way it came, mysteriously rolling down the street on a breezy autumn day as the lingering sensation of October kept you excited and the promise of pumpkin pie hung in the air.

You'd like to think another kid had found it on an unconventional  autumn day much like you had, rolling down the street and across the fallen leaves. 

**Author's Note:**

> so i tried to originally write this on paper and i got like, 8 pages for the first chapter front and back, but i have really big handwriting so it ended up being like, half a page so i scrapped it and just wrote it as i went along on here and it came out longer.


End file.
